Nan-Core by Mahokaru Numata Page A

orders mixed up and taking out cakes without a fork. At one point I tripped over a leash and almost crushed a Chihuahua underfoot. I realized that Ms. Hosoya was watching me with a frown. It was before two p.m. and the day was still long.
    Ms. Hosoya came over and asked, “What’s up with you today, boss?”
    “I didn’t sleep much, I think I’m a little spaced out.” It was true that I had hardly slept—I’d spent most of the night lost in thought.
    “You’re really pale, maybe you should go upstairs and lie down for a bit. The three of us can manage things down here.”
    One of the three was in the kitchen, meaning that without me Ms. Hosoya and Nachi would have to manage the floor, the run, and the register. That would be difficult.
    “But I’m already causing enough trouble, what with me taking off early tomorrow.” I had explained earlier in the morning that I would have to head out Sunday afternoon. I had managed to convince another member of the part-timestaff to come in on her day off, but I felt bad regardless. “And Nachi is, well, he’s like that.” I nodded towards a table in the corner.
    Whenever Clutch, a black pug, came to the cafe, Nachi never failed to come up with an excuse to neglect his work and fuss over the dog. He was already crouched next to the tiny creature, which was as small as a rat, stroking it with his index finger.
    According to the elderly lady that owned him Clutch had an exceedingly noble pedigree, and that may have been why he was so small. “He’s stayed a pup his whole life, even as he became an old man.” He couldn’t walk or bark, so the only thing to do was hold him gently, like something fragile. For some reason the odd creature, unrecognizable as a dog unless someone told you, appeared to be an endless source of happiness for Nachi.
    Ms. Hosoya glared at his hunched back, clearly on the verge of tutting with disapproval. Nachi looked around, perhaps sensing her menacing mood, jumped to his feet, and walked over with a sheepish grin.
    “Ha ha. I wish he’d chew on my finger, just one time.” Nachi always said this. The tiny dog was incapable of moving anything beyond its eyes and mouth, so gnawing at a finger was the only way for the small creature to express affection. But Clutch only ever bit his owner. “When he bites her, she says it’s so sweet and cute that she could cry.”
    “Yes, well, as you can see Nachi here will do his best to help, so go and get a little rest. You’re only bringing down the mood, looking that sickly. Go on, off you go.” She shooed me upstairs, waving me off like I was a dog.
    “Thank you, maybe just an hour, then.”
    I padded up the stairs, still in my apron. For some reason I walked as softly as I could.
    The second floor, consisting of a couple of small rooms, a kitchenette, and a bathroom like the kind found in business hotels, was where I lived. The plate and mug I’d used for breakfast were still on the table, but I couldn’t summon the energy to clean up.
    I went over to the window and stood there for a while, watching the field through the thin curtains. As it was a quarter of an acre in size, it was a little too cramped for the larger dogs to dash about freely. Even so, these days facilities such as these were the only places dogs could run around outside without a leash.
    Some of the dogs seemed lonesome, wagging their tails at their owners watching from the veranda, while others darted back and forth in endless drifting circles.
    At its northern edge the field lifted into a gradual slope which stretched out beyond the fence, connecting with a wood at the foothills of a small mountain.
    I could see Chie at the fence, working with a shovel. Long, slender limbs. She wore gloves and had a towel tucked around her neck as she filled in the various holes made by the dogs—
    Memories of her dwelt on the grounds and in my room like ghosts, frightening me.
    We had once gone past the fence a little ways into the woods and